


The Lure of Evil

by irrelevanttous



Category: Twilight (Movies), Twilight Series - All Media Types, Twilight Series - Stephenie Meyer
Genre: Alternate Universe - Human, Dark Magic, F/M, Folk Tale
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-11-15
Updated: 2020-11-15
Packaged: 2021-03-09 19:08:24
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Major Character Death
Chapters: 1
Words: 12,689
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/27581153
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/irrelevanttous/pseuds/irrelevanttous
Summary: He had only been looking for a roof over his head and a bowl of food on the table but found himself getting dragged into a dark, mysterious world instead. Only love could save him, but the consequences of failure were grave.Jalice Dark Magic AU
Relationships: Alice Cullen/Jasper Hale
Comments: 12
Kudos: 11





	The Lure of Evil

**Author's Note:**

> All right my loves. Gather around the fireplace as I tell you this old German folk tale. It is a quite popular story here in Germany, but I have no idea if anyone from another country would know it. I re-wrote the story, but all the major plot points are basically the same, so if you know the story, this will be quite boring for you.
> 
> This is so fucking long, over 12.000 words. But I did not want to split it, so here we go.
> 
> I hope you like it!

_The Lure of Evil_

________________

**Year One**

It had been a frosty, gloomy day. New Year’s Eve had come and gone and had brought with it the dense, impenetrable fog not untypical for this season. While some of the farmers considered this a good omen – there was an old saying promising a humid, fertile summer and autumn to follow, whenever the winter dragged on like this – it meant bad news for some.

These days, if you were unfortunate enough to be forced to leave the confinements of your home, you could hardly see further than a few feet through the foggy white wall of air that seemed to engulf the landscape, villages, and dark forests. Therefore, it’s easy to imagine it was a particularly dire situation for those who did not _own_ homes, those poor souls who were cast out, abandoned, or simply struck by other misfortunes.

They had been travelling around frequently over the past few days, never staying in on place for too long. It wasn’t so much that they would have minded, staying somewhere with a roof over their head and a bowl of food on the table. It would have been pleasant, even; a nice change. But although the good, Christian citizens of the region were feeling exceedingly benevolent at this time of the year – after all, they had only celebrated Christmas less than two weeks ago, a holiday in its essence about great kindness and generosity – none of them were keen to offer them shelter for more than a single night in a row. They were well aware of this, always knew when the time had come when they had overstayed their welcome, so they didn’t attempt to challenge fate. They moved on whenever and how often it was necessary.

That particular night, when Jasper first dreamt about the mill, they had been unluckier than the days before. They had knocked on the door of the farmhouse just as the sun had set, when the fog had already been thick enough to swallow the distant horizon, leaving them no other option than to accept the farmer’s offer. Hence, they were not sleeping in proper beds tonight as they had during the previous nights, but rather on improvised cots made of hay. The barn had been the only thing the farmer had been able – or willing – to offer and their feet had hurt too much, their limbs had been too heavy, and their bodies had been too exhausted for them to decline it.

Jasper didn’t mind the prickle of the hay against the parts of his skin that were exposed to it. In fact, he even strangely welcomed it. It reminded him of home, someplace he’d once known, a distant memory, barely more than a haze in the back of his mind. He fell asleep quicker than the others who struggled more to get comfortable and twisted and turned around to find the right position. They had walked many miles that day, eager to reach the next village, though none of them could tell what it was they were expecting to find there. A better life? Hardly. There was no other life out there for them, none without the struggle and the pain and the humiliation. Over the course of the last months, Jasper had begun to believe it when people yelled indignities after them, calling them ‘scum’ and ‘vermin’ and ‘lowlifes’. Because, after all, wasn’t there some truth to their words? He’d never had more than a few pence in his pockets, never had a permanent residence since his parent’s death, never had his belly filled with food for more than a day. His feet were ceaselessly covered in blisters and blood, his hands rough from the hard labour he’d occasionally been lucky enough to find for a short period of time. His body was covered in scars from all the beatings he’d received during those few, miserable weeks when he’d condescended to stealing. In retrospect, that had been it, his rock-bottom, that place he’d thought he never could reach, and, at the time, he’d cried himself to sleep every night due to the shame of it. His parents had raised him to be decent, to contribute to society, not to take away from it. But he’d been so starved, so utterly desperate that he’d had no other choice. Or rather, at the time the choice had been stealing or dying. And Jasper had always been a survivor.

Whenever he looked back on that time, he still felt a slight flush creep up on his cheeks with embarrassment about the fact that he’d stooped so low. But to be honest, he wasn’t sure if these times were past him for good. If the winter continued dragging on like this and the generosity of people ran out – which, eventually, would happen, that much was for sure – he might have to resort to this old skillset of his again.

And yet, none of these things were on his mind as he drifted off into dreamland, the only place where hope for a better future wasn’t considered silly reveries or straight-up heresy.

The dream was unlike any other he’d ever had, darker somehow and more real, although he could not tell where that sentiment came from. For the first time in his life, he was fully aware that it _was_ indeed a dream, since – during other nights – his dreams would feel as real as it got until the moment he woke up.

_Eleven ravens were sitting on a perch, their grim, dark eyes staring at him directly and their intensity made him shiver. But there was one spot on the perch which wasn’t occupied, and he instinctively knew it wasn’t right like this, something seemed out of place, wrong somehow. There were supposed to be twelve ravens. One was missing._

_And then, he heard that voice for the first time. It appeared to come either from out of the sky, from above, or at least from a fair distance away. Hoarse and yet clear as a bell, it only said one thing,_

_“Jasper!”_

_He didn’t dare to reply._

_“Jasper!”_

_His mouth was still sealed; his eyes were scanning the non-existent room around him, trying to find the person the voice belonged to. But there was nothing there, only a dark void - not unlike the fog which engulfed the barn he was sleeping in at that very moment, although Jasper wasn’t aware of it._

_“Jasper!” This time, the woman – because he was sure that a woman was the one calling out his name – added, “Come to the mill in Hollowwell. You will not regret it.”_

That was when he woke, his forehead and blond locks drenched in sweat, although he couldn’t explain to himself why. It hadn’t been a nightmare; it had not even been the worst thing he’d dreamt that week. And still, a slight chill that had nothing to do with the cold, crept through his bones at the memory of the dream whenever he thought about it the following morning.

They had made more miles over the course of that day and reached the next settlement a few hours before nightfall. Again, they couldn’t find anyone to offer them lodging at their house and were turned away a couple of times before reaching an old, abandoned, and bedraggled house at the edge of the village. They decided to make camp there tonight, none of them particularly keen to continue on through the darkness and cold to the next village. This of course meant that they had to go to sleep with empty bellies, but after having lived the life of a homeless pauper for so long, Jasper was used to that.

Nonetheless, it took some time, falling asleep on the hard, wooden floorboards, but when he did, he returned to that same dream he’d had the previous night, with that mysterious, faceless woman calling his name, asking him to come to Hollowwell. This time, the only thing that was different about the dream was that after her request, the ravens croaked, “Obey her!”

The next morning, Jasper woke up with confusion in his mind. He’d never had the same dream twice before and he was beginning to wonder if there wasn’t something else going on with these dreams. The clarity with which he could remember them even in his woken state surprised him. He’d never been superstitious either, but he couldn’t shake the feeling that this woman was real and actually trying to convey him a message.

Therefore, when they reached their next destination, he asked the old couple who had agreed to take them in for the night whether they knew a place named Hollowwell. The man shook his head, but the wife threw Jasper a long, drilling gaze, causing him to feel him uncomfortable under her scrutiny. After a long while, she sighed and said, “Yes, I know it. It’s three miles north of here, on the edge of Attleville Forest. But be careful, boy. Folk say it’s a dark place. A dangerous place. I wouldn’t set foot in that village if I were you.”

Jasper didn’t take her warning seriously, but still wondered how he could have dreamt about a real place he’d had no idea existed.

That night, he dreamt the same dream again. It made him jolt upright on top of his bed when it was over. The urgency with which the woman had spoken, seemed to increase every night and Jasper felt as though the time he had to follow her command was running out. Without even realising what he was doing, without thinking too much about it, he packed his few worldly belongings into his bundle and left his companions behind.

He regretted not having waited until the morning, because the road stretched out in front of him in utter darkness and he could not see a thing, but he walked on anyway. Almost feeling like he was being pulled forward by an invisible hand, he set one foot in front of the other, the road leading him to his destination. Jasper reached the village shortly after sunrise, despite having to walk slower than usual due to the lack of visibility and the bumpy condition of the road.

It didn’t take him long to find someone of whom he could inquire about the location of the mill.

“Mill?” the old innkeeper asked, “There is no mill in this village.”

“Perhaps somewhere around the area?” Jasper was starting to think that perhaps he was beginning to become delusional, coming here on a whim because of a dream he’d had.

But then the man nodded. “There is a mill, down by the Dark Lake, but…”

There he stopped as if he’d already said too much. Jasper waited for a few seconds for him to go on before he decided the old man had likely just forgotten what he’d wanted to say. Eagerly, he made his way down the road through the forest, in the direction the man had pointed him. The closer he got to the lake, the less populated the area seemed to become. When he stepped out of the shadow of the trees at the edge of the forest, the only house he could see was the mill, towering in front of him in a dark and menacing way.

Jasper considered turning around and leaving this idea he’d conjured up in his head behind. And yet he did not, an invisible string pulling him toward the building.

He knocked on the black door, once, twice, three times.

“Come in.” The voice was familiar. It was the voice from his dreams, belonging to that mysterious, intriguing woman.

Without hesitation this time, Jasper crossed the threshold and stepped into the dark interior of the house. It was impossibly quiet in here. He felt as though he would be able to hear a needle drop. At the end of the dark corridor, there was a small glint of light coming through the crack of a slightly opened door and he walked toward it.

Outside, he hesitated, unsure if he should enter the room or knock on the door. Before he could make up his mind, the woman spoke again, “Do come in, don’t be shy.”

Jasper did as he was told, then, and stepped into the room. There, on the other side of the desk located in the middle of the room, sat a young, dark-haired woman. Her black eyes were fixed on him as he crossed the room, watching his every move. She wasn’t at all what Jasper had imagined. She was dressed entirely in black, wearing a coat over her dress, and had stretched out her leather boots onto the table, leaning back in her chair. Her black, wavy hair reached down to the middle of her back, covering the pale, ivory skin of her shoulders. She was a lot younger than he’d thought, probably only a few years older than him, perhaps two decades old.

“Jasper,” she said and motioned him to sit down across from her. He was too overwhelmed by the multitude of impressions raining down on him so that he didn’t even question how she could possibly know his name. She was smiling at him, and he had to admit that she was beautiful, almost otherworldly so.

“I’ve been waiting for you.”

He took a seat on the chair she’d pointed at and looked back at her. “Why am I here?”

Her smile turned wider. “I am the Master of this mill. My name is Maria. I need another apprentice. Are you interested?”

His mouth answered without his consent, his tone sounding foreign to his own ears, “Yes.”

“And what would you like to learn? How to grind grain or the rest as well?”

“The rest as well,” Jasper said without thinking.

The woman – Maria – smiled at him once more and extended her hand, which he took. While they shook hands, a muffled rumbling, which appeared to come from deep down underneath the mill, started to echo.

It startled him and for a few, short moments, he had to stifle the sudden, overwhelming instinct to run away. But Maria simply laughed.

“The mill,” she said. “The mill is grinding again.”

______________

Maria led him upstairs to the room where she said the other journeyman and apprentices slept. She used to have twelve of them, she told him, but one of them had left the mill recently, so that she was one short. Jasper wanted to ask where he’d gone and why he’d left, but bit his tongue. There was something about the aura surrounding Maria which made him think she would not appreciate getting interrupted. Despite her young age – and her gender – she seemed to be a person of authority, someone you better not crossed.

She showed him his bed in the attic where the miller’s men slept – Jasper couldn’t help feeling a little excitement at her words, his _own_ , real bed – and explained that the others were out working in the mill currently, but would return soon. Then, she left him after she’d told him to get a good night’s sleep while he could, since tomorrow he would have to work to earn his keep. Not that Jasper minded that. He was thrilled to – for once – have a place to stay and to have a roof over his head for more than just one night.

The next morning at breakfast, he met the others. Or rather, one of them – the oldest, a tall, soft-spoken young man called Peter – introduced him to the others. Not all of them seemed thrilled to see him. In particular, the boy called Alec didn’t appear to like him overly much, only nodding briefly in his direction when Peter called his name. Then, there was Edward, a bronze-haired boy around his own age who gave him a little smile and pushed a bowl of porridge toward him on the table.

Jasper couldn’t remember the names of all the others. Maria was nowhere to be seen.

After not having eaten yesterday, Jasper wolfed down the food to the amusement of the others as if he’d never eat another meal again. When they had finished their food, Peter pulled him aside and told him, “The master will assign you a task today. It will be impossible to fulfil, so don’t despair. I will come down and help you as soon as my work is done.”

Jasper frowned. He did not yet understand what the other was talking about but, true enough, Maria approached him shortly after breakfast and showed him to a barn next to the house. It was dirty, full of flour dust, and she told him to clean it out. Jasper then learned what Peter had meant, for it was impossible to achieve the outcome Maria was expecting of him. Every time he swept the floor, the flour dust rose up into the air for a while before falling down to the ground again. The problem wasn’t the broom or his tactic. It was that Maria had locked him in here, the door tightly shut, and that the windows were sealed. How was he supposed to clean out this barn if he couldn’t get the flour dust out of the windows or doors?

Still, he tried for three hours, breaking out in sweat with the exertion of the labour, until finally, the door swung open and he was faced with Peter’s grinning expression. The other man told him to step out of the barn, which he did, and drew something – a shape of sorts – into the air with his hands, whispering something under his breath. When Jasper peeked back into the barn, the flour dust was gone.

“How did you do that?”

He did not receive an answer.

Over the course of the next few months, Jasper had to discover that his new home wasn’t just an ordinary mill. He had befriended Peter, who seemed to regard it as his task to take Jasper under his wing. The blond boy looked up to the other man like an older brother. However, that did not mean that Peter told him everything there was to know about this place. There were some secrets the other was hiding from him, and no matter how often Jasper asked, Peter would always shut him down. Therefore, when Maria summoned them to her office – the room where Jasper had first met her but in which he hadn’t set foot ever since – he was shocked to find out that these “other things” she was going to teach them included Magic. Dark Magic, to be precise.

Every month, she would ask them to join her in her office and would read to them from a book with black pages, expecting them to memorize the words. When they failed, they were punished. Magic was something Jasper had never believed in before coming to Hollowwell, but he had to learn now that everything he’d previously believed to be a myth was in fact real.

The first thing Maria taught him, was how to turn into a raven, since she would always give the lessons to them only in their raven form. He was reminded of the dream he’d had and realized that his being here was no coincidence after all. Maria had sent him the dreams purposefully; she had lured him here.

However, he wasn’t bothered by this newfound knowledge. On the contrary, he was intrigued by it, grateful even. Maria had given him something he’d never thought he’d have again: A home as well as real friends.

Also, Jasper genuinely didn’t mind the hard labour they had to do for Maria at the mill. After a while he even became quite good at it, getting ahead of more experienced, older apprentices when it came to skills in magic _and_ grinding grain.

Peter was at his side throughout it all, offering him assistance or advice depending on what he needed. But there was a dark shadow on the man’s face sometimes, and a sadness to his smile that Jasper did not understand. When he asked the other about it, Peter just shook his head.

“You will understand, soon enough. I would rather not trouble you with these things before they become relevant.”

No matter how many times Jasper asked, Peter would always give him the same reply. And he didn’t dare to ask the others. One of the things he’d learned early on, during his first week at the mill, was that Maria didn’t like it when one asked too many questions. She’d punished him for it back then, had made him work for two days straight without food, until he was at the brink of collapsing. Only when Peter had interfered, asking Maria to stop the punishment, had she given in and had told him to get something to eat and to go to sleep. He had learned his lesson, though, and never asked any of the other journeymen too many questions again.

When Easter came, Jasper had learned the basics, both of grinding grain, as well as in the art of Dark Magic. He was a diligent student and Maria was very pleased with him. On Holy Saturday, she summoned them to her office once more and asked them to go off to receive the ‘mark’. Jasper had no idea what she was talking about, but by now he knew better than to ask. She counted them out so that they were always in pairs and sent them out into the darkness. Jasper and Peter were supposed to go together, and the blond boy was grateful for it. He could not have asked for a better partner for this task.

Once they set foot outside the mill, Peter pulled him forward by his arm, leading him toward the forest. “We need to hurry. I don’t want the others to get to the spot I had in mind before we do.”

“Where exactly are we supposed to go? What does Maria mean, we have to receive the ‘mark’?” Jasper asked.

Peter shook his head. “I will explain once we get there.”

That was a good enough reply and Jasper nodded, following the man through the darkness. They reached the forest and wandered through it for a long time, until they were engulfed by the pitch-black darkness. But Peter seemed to know where they were going, and Jasper trusted his friend.

After a while, they reached the other end of the forest, and they could see the faint lights of the village in the distance. Jasper recognized the road he had once taken, that day when he had walked to the mill. It seemed to have been in another lifetime, so much had happened in the meantime.

It was the middle of the night by now and Peter led him to a wooden cross near the edge of the forest. There, he lit a fire and told Jasper to sit down and make himself comfortable.

The blond boy could hardly hold back his questions. Thankfully, he didn’t have to ask again, because Peter exhaled deeply and said, “This is the place where a man called Caius died a few years ago. Maria always makes us go out into the wilderness on the Eve of Easter Sunday, always in pairs. We have to spend the night under the stars at a place where someone violently died.”

“Why?” Jasper asked, his eyes full of confusion.

Peter shrugged. “Because Maria says so.”

Jasper still didn’t have a clue what any of this meant, but he’d learned during those last couple of months to never question anything Maria told them. Therefore, “Maria said so” was a valid argument and he accepted Peter’s words without hesitation.

After a while, Peter started flicking open his knife, the one Jasper had seen him use many times to carve little wooden figures. Only this time, when he flipped the knife open, the blade – which Jasper could have sworn had a silver, metal colour the last time he’d seen it – was black. Peter frowned at the knife, as though he was wondering about that, too, before he put it away again.

Jasper attempted to start a conversation with his friend a few times, but Peter only replied shortly each time, giving him the impression that he wasn’t keen on talking to him right now. Instead, the older man just stared straight ahead into the fire. His mind appeared to be far away.

Jasper struggled to stay awake – which was something Peter had told him they had to do – throughout the entire night, until, suddenly, Peter sat up with a start, showing signs of life for the first time in a long while.

“The bells,” he said. “Do you hear them?”

Jasper did, so he nodded. They had been quiet since Holy Thursday but were now chiming again.

And then, he heard _them_.

He didn’t know how many girls it were, but from the sounds of it, at least ten, maybe more. Their voices resounded from the village to the edge of the forest where Jasper and Peter were sitting, but he could hear them loud and clear as if they were standing next to him. They started singing an old Easter song, one he hadn’t heard since his parents had died. And even though he knew the song, it felt to him as if he’d never heard it sung quite like this before. The girls sang the chorus, and then, out of the choir, out of the fusion of their voices, rose the one of a single girl, singing the next verse on her own.

Never in his life before had a song made him cry, but when he heard _her_ voice, that clear, jubilant voice of that one girl singing the verses, the tears were running down his cheeks before he could pull himself together. He wondered why her song made him feel like this. Perhaps it was the way it reminded him of home – his real home, the one he had lost. Or maybe it was the hope in her tone and the words she was singing: the promise that the darkness would pass, the dead would rise, and a new day would come. He did not know why he cried, as the girls – and that one girl – sang song for song, verse for verse, but he did not care. They were always alternating, the choir singing the chorus and _the girl_ singing the verses.

It was an old tradition, and Jasper had witnessed it a few times back when his parents had still been alive. The girls would walk through the village, in pairs – much like the journeymen tonight – singing, from midnight till dawn. And one of them, the one with the loveliest, purest voice would walk ahead on her own, leading the others. Legend said she was the purest, most innocent of them all, although he’d always doubted that in the past.

He didn’t doubt it anymore.

 _Her_.

He wondered what she might look like and for a moment, he considered abandoning his place next to Peter and go to the village to search for her. Only fear of what Maria would do once she found out stopped him. He was certain he would be punished for disobeying her, so he stayed seated and continued listening to the girls’ songs, while each and every one of them filled him with more desire to find the girl with the clearest voice of them all.

After a while, Peter turned to face him. The other had clearly not missed his outburst of emotion, but didn’t comment on it. Instead, he said, “I once loved a girl.”

Jasper stared at him, not having expected the other to talk about these things. In the past, Peter had never volunteered information about himself or where he came from, let alone about something as personal as this.

“Her name was Charlotte,” Peter continued. “But now, she rests in the ground, at the graveyard in Hollowwell. The reason I’m telling you this, is that none of us journeymen at the mill bring much luck or fortune to girls. I don’t know why that is, and I don’t mean to scare you. All I’m saying is, if you ever find a girl you like, you’d do better not to show it. Maria can never find out about it, nor Alec, because he will tell Maria everything.”

Jasper stared at him. “Are you saying you believe that Maria or Alec are responsible for your girl’s death?”

Peter sighed deeply, his eyes staring off into the darkness again. “I don’t know. What I _do_ know, though, is that – if you love a girl - you can never reveal her name, under no circumstances. Not to anyone at the mill. Not while you’re awake, nor when you’re asleep. Maria can never know, or both of you will be doomed.”

His intensity shocked Jasper, although he could not say why. “Don’t worry. I don’t care about girls and I can’t see how that would change anytime soon.”

When the dawn arrived, the songs and bells from the village stopped. Peter took a burned stick out of the fire, and drew a mark on Jasper’s forehead – a pentagram -, asking the blond boy to do the same to him. Peter started reciting an old verse and Jasper joined him, repeating the words the older said. They scattered the ashes of the fire and made their way back home.

While they were walking through the forest, they heard the voices of the girls – the same girls who had sung the Easter songs throughout the night – coming toward them on the pathway. Peter pulled Jasper into the thicket, mumbling, “We don’t want to scare them. They have gone to fetch the Easter Water.”

That, too, was an old tradition. Jasper remembered how his mother had told him about it a long time ago. The girls had to fill their tankards at the well and walk back to the village without looking back. The legend said, if they managed to achieve that, they would meet their future lover on the way. And if the girls then washed themselves with that water, it was said to have special powers to give them beauty and fortune for a whole year.

The two apprentices watched as the girls passed them, their giggling and chattering audible even in their hiding spot. Unwittingly, Jasper found himself searching for her, that one singer with the beautiful voice. He hadn’t been sure he would recognize her – after all, he only knew her voice. But when the girls passed them one by one, he knew somehow that she wasn’t among them.

The group disappeared in the darkness of the trees and Jasper and Peter were just about to leave their hiding spot when another girl came into sight, trailing behind the others in some distance. She was staring straight ahead, a look of fierce determination in her eyes.

There was no doubt in his mind; Jasper knew it was her. He couldn’t tell how he knew, exactly, but he was certain. She was the most beautiful girl he’d ever seen. Her dark hair was cut short, spiking in all the directions, and her dark blue eyes reminded him of the colour of the lake next to his old home, or the ocean he’d only seen once in his life. Her features were delicate, and her figure tiny – she wasn’t much taller than a child – and yet she seemed to belong here, in this forest, like a silvan fairy. She didn’t notice the two journeymen hiding in the shadows of the thicket and had soon passed them, following her friends back to the village, unaware that she was being watched.

Jasper could feel Peter’s eyes on him for the duration of their way home but didn’t feel like talking about what had happened. The truth was that he himself couldn’t even say for sure what had happened. _Something_ had occurred, something significant, and they both seemed to sense it, but Jasper didn’t want to ruin it by speaking about it.

Maria awaited them back at the mill and made them work for the rest of the day. For some reason, the work was so much more exhausting today then it normally was. Jasper was drenched in sweat as soon as threw the first sack of grain over his shoulder. The others did not fare better. For an hour, all he could hear was the groaning and cursing of his fellow journeymen. Then, something unexpected happened: The pentagram Peter had drawn on his forehead was smudged by now and then, over the next few minutes, it started to disappear entirely. As soon as every trace of it was erased, Jasper started to feel better, stronger, the pain in his arms and legs gone all of a sudden.

He stopped and laughed, not sure yet whether to trust the surge of strength returning to his body. But the others seemed to experience it as well, all of them laughing now, and started throwing the sacks around as if they weighed nothing more than feathers.

When he asked Peter about it, later that evening, the other told him, “From now on, until next year at the same time, the work will always feel like this, easy. At least when we do it from the morning till the evening. At night, it will still be as hard as it gets. But Maria doesn’t usually make us work at night, so don’t worry.”

There was one more question on Jasper’s mind, one that he needed to have answered. “Peter? Why is the blade of your knife black all of a sudden?”

Peter hesitated before he pulled out his knife and handed it to Jasper. “Open it.”

When he did, the blade had a normal, metallic colour just as he’d remembered it. He stared down at it, wondering if he was going insane, but Peter took it from his hand and flipped it open himself.

There.

Again, the blade was black.

“What does it mean?” Jasper asked.

Peter exhaled sharply. “This blade changes colour when you’re in grave danger. Then, it turns black.”

Before Jasper could say anything else, or think about the other’s words for too long, Peter had already continued. “I want you to have it. Something to remember me by.”

“Are you leaving us?”

“Not anytime soon, no,” Peter said. “But… perhaps. You never know what will happen.”

________________

The next few months passed without any particularly exciting events. Jasper continued his training with the others, in the art of Dark Magic as well as grinding the grain. He got better at the work, learned all the spells Maria taught them by heart and generally got stronger and taller. His seventeenth birthday came and went; nobody payed attention to birthdays here at the mill, so he didn’t make a big fuss about it either.

December began and with it the foul mood of the journeymen, which Jasper couldn’t explain. It was like, suddenly, everyone seemed to get irritated more easily, with fights constantly breaking out among them.

He asked Peter about it – the only one who was still calm and collected, although that shadow of sadness seemed to be back in his features –, what was the matter with them all, and the other simply replied, “They’re scared.”

“Scared of what?” Jasper asked.

“I can’t tell you. You will find out soon enough.”

“What about you, Peter? Are you not afraid?” Jasper had no idea what was going on, but it still seemed strange that the other man acted so differently than the others.

Peter paused for a long time, giving him a look full of something Jasper could not decipher. “More than you know.”

When New Year’s Eve came around, the mood among the journeymen was worse than it ever had been before. Two of the others had already threatened to punch Jasper that day, mostly due to minor incidents they would have normally let go. They went to bed sooner than usual, and Jasper hoped that the new year would bring on a serious change in attitude in his fellow apprentices.

That night, they were ripped from their sleep by the sound of a scream, tearing through the silence. Jasper jumped to his feet, but saw that the others were staring ahead grimly, not appearing surprised. When he looked around, he started to panic – Peter was not here.

He ran to the door, which was locked and rattled the doorknob, desperate to get out, until Edward put a hand onto his shoulder. “Go back to bed, Jasper.”

“But Peter –”

“There is nothing we can do for him.”

Peter was dead.

Nobody seemed surprised about that fact except for Jasper. They found the body – entirely drained of blood - on New Year’s Day, lying face down in the hallway outside of Maria’s office. Edward told him that he must have fallen down the stairs and broken his neck, but Jasper didn’t believe that for a second. Peter had _known_ , had known that his end was near. The knife, the comments he’d made… Jasper was sure that he’d known.

When they walked over to the edge of the lake, carrying Peter’s lifeless body, the grave was already prepared. They buried him in silence, none of them crying except for Jasper. He stayed behind when they all left. He wanted to pray, speak the Lord’s prayer for his friend, but he did not remember the words.

No matter how hard he tried, the words did not come back to him.

______________

**Year Two**

Life in the mill continued as if nothing had ever happened, as if Peter had never even existed in the first place. The only one who seemed to remember him was Jasper, but he was wary of the others, these recent events turning him unwilling to trust anybody, so he did not speak about Peter to anyone. Edward once approached him, asking him about Peter’s knife he’d used to carve a wooden figure, just as Peter always used to, “That’s a beautiful knife.”

“It’s a keepsake.”

“Got it from a girl?”

“No. From a friend,” Jasper said, his tone ending the conversation. Edward was a fool, the laughingstock of the bunch. He wasn’t good at anything, whether it was magic or the work at the mill. That’s why Maria made him work in the kitchen, preparing the food for them and cleaning up their messes. The women’s chores, as Alec always called them. Jasper didn’t have much respect for Edward, and after that conversation, he suspected the other was probably spying on him for Maria.

A week later, there was a new boy sleeping in Peter’s bed, no doubt the newest apprentice Maria had found. Emmett, now the oldest, introduced them all to the boy – whose name was Mike – telling him all their names. The entire situation was exactly the same as it had been last year when Jasper arrived at the mill.

The mill was grinding again.

After a few more weeks of misery, Jasper dreamt of Peter for the first time.

_He was standing in the marshland, staring at the distant horizon. It was cold, but he barely felt it. He was waiting for something – someone – but he didn’t realize it was Peter until he saw the other man stepping out of the fog, walking toward him._

_“Peter!” he screamed from the top of his lungs, tears running down his cheeks. His feet moved of their own accord and he started running. Just before he could reach Peter, he had to come to an abrupt stop. Before, he hadn’t noticed it, but they were separated by a river, Peter standing on the other riverbank of it. Jasper’s head flew around, scanning the moor desperately for a boat, a piece of wood, something. He would swim if he had to._

_“Wait, I’m coming to get you!” He turned to face Peter again, but to his surprise, the other man shook his head when Jasper put his foot into the water._

_“It’s not your time yet. You must stay on your side, and I on mine.”_

_“But-”_

_Peter gave him that strict look he was so used to, he had seen it countless times over the past year, whenever he’d done or asked something stupid. “It has to be this way. You cannot cross.”_

_“You must come back.” Jasper was sobbing at the words. Up until this moment he’d not fully realised, not admitted to himself that Peter was gone for good, that he would not return. That he was on his own._

_“I cannot.” Peter’s smile was sad. “I’m elsewhere. But you, Jasper, you must listen to me carefully now. The danger has not passed. You’re smart enough to know what happened to me. You know it was no accident. And it will happen again. You must be careful who you trust.”_

_“I trust none of them,” Jasper said, his voice still full of desperation. “I trust nobody except for you!”_

_Peter was silent after his words and gave him a long look as if trying to find out if he, in turn, could trust Jasper. Then, he sighed. “There is someone at the mill you can trust. Someone smarter even than the master. I cannot say his name, but he will be the first person calling your name when you wake.”_

_Jasper had heard enough cryptic remarks for a lifetime. “Why can’t you just tell me his name?”_

_“Your dreams are not safe, Jasper,” Peter said. “I must go now. We will not speak again. Good luck.” He spun around on his heels and stalked off, his figure slowly turning smaller and smaller._

_Jasper screamed after him, begged the other to stay, but it was of no use. Peter disappeared behind a white wall of fog, never to return again._

“Jasper!”

He jolted upright in his bed, staring at the two faces leaning over him. Emmett and Edward gave him concerned looks, the latter asking, “Are you all right? You were crying.”

Jasper shook his head and ignored the question. “Which one of you called my name?”

Both of them gaped at him, their faces blank. “Uh, we both did?” Emmett said.

“Who said it first?”

They did not have an answer for him.

When Holy Saturday came around during Jasper’s second year at the mill, he was paired with Edward and sent out by Maria to receive the mark. He was quick to propose the same spot where he’d gone with Peter last year. Edward only shrugged and said he didn’t mind.

Over the last months, Jasper had come the conclusion that Edward could impossibly be the person Peter had spoken of. So it had to be Emmett, his ally, the one person he could trust at the mill. He had still been careful not to ask the man too many unwanted, dangerous questions. Looking at Edward now, as the other clumsily stumbled over his own feet every few steps, Jasper was only encouraged in his previous assumption. No, Peter had certainly not meant Edward.

Once they had started the fire, the two boys sat down next to it, neither of them much in the mood for conversation. Jasper was conflicted. Maria had taught them a spell that made it possible for his soul to leave his body and wander around independently. Technically, his body would still be at the fire, so Maria would have no way of knowing of – or punishing him for – his disobedience. But he knew the spell only worked at night and he would have to be back inside his body before dawn, otherwise his soul would forever be trapped in the veil between the worlds, his body doomed to rot, only a hollow shell with nothing inside.

And yet, despite being aware of the risks, he cast the spell, the desire to see the singer again so overwhelming that he felt as if he was trying to stop a tidal wave with his bare hands. His resistance was in vain. He had to see her again.

When his soul detached from his body, he could see himself sitting there, his eyes staring blankly into the distance and he wondered if that was what Peter had done, last year. Gone off to find someone.

Then again, Peter’s girl had been dead already at the time.

The girl Jasper was longing to find was very much alive.

Before he could make his way to the village, he threw a last glance at Edward, but the other boy had not noticed his absence, looking as though he was close to falling asleep. Jasper decided that he would simply have to take that risk, too. Perhaps Edward wouldn’t notice.

He walked – or rather flew, because his soul did not have legs in the way his body did – toward the village. When he was halfway there, the songs started again. For one, terrifyingly long moment, Jasper was afraid that she would not be the singer this time. Perhaps she had moved away, or they had picked another girl to sing the verses.

Perhaps she had died.

A lot could happen in a year.

But his concerns were unfounded. When the first verse began, her clear, marvellous voice resounded in what used to be utter silence, and he was exhaling the breath he had not known he was holding. He could see them now, the girls in their white dresses, flower crowns on their heads.

The one he was looking for was walking ahead of the procession, just as she likely had last year, even though he had not seen her back then. Her hair had grown out since he’d last seen her in the forest, now reaching down to her shoulders. Her friends were following behind her, lanterns in their hands, but she was the only one he could see.

The only one he was paying attention to.

The smile on her face was bright, she seemed so genuinely happy to be singing her song, leading the others through the village with her voice. She seemed strangely out of place here, beside the houses and shops. Jasper couldn’t shake the thought he’d had last year, that she belonged in the forest, her bare feet dancing over the moos on the ground. Her voice, that face, were too beautiful, too sweet to be a part of this world. She was from elsewhere; he was sure of it. Something as pure as her could not exist in the same universe he was living in.

He wanted nothing more than to talk to her, hear that lovely voice speaking his name, but he knew it was impossible. He didn’t have a mouth, for one, at least not right now. And he also could never endanger her like that. Because she _was_ indeed part of a different world, she was on the side of the angels, while the path he had chosen had led him somewhere else entirely, somewhere far darker. For the first time since he’d come to Hollowwell, he regretted shaking Maria’s hand, forming that pact, binding himself to her.

He stepped closer, until he was almost in front of her. He wondered what would happen if she walked on, straight through him. Maybe that way they could be one, at least.

Instead, the girl stopped right in front of him, and looked up from the lantern she was holding. She was staring straight at him, though Jasper deep down knew it was not possible. She could not see him.

The girl didn’t stop singing, but it felt now as though she was singing her song just for him. It would have made him cry again – he knew that song well, his mother used to sing it to him when he was little – had he been in his body. And despite his doubts, he more and more started to feel like she knew he was here, like she was trying to tell him something.

He was so immersed by her voice and his love for her – because he could not deny it any longer, he _loved_ her –, that he did not notice that the sun was about to rise. All thoughts were erased from his mind, the risk of him being separated from his body forever, forgotten. Nothing else mattered but her voice, her eyes, her smile…

A painful, burning sensation on his arm brought him back to his body. His eyes flew open, staring at the scene in front of him in shock. Edward had put out the fire, and was sitting in front of him, giving him an apologetical look. “I’m so sorry! You were staring off into the distance like that and I wanted to see if you were all right, but then the ash from the stick I was holding fell down onto your arm.”

Jasper – for once – was grateful for Edward’s clumsiness. The other boy had – unbeknownst to him – saved him from a dreadful existence outside of his body. He would have to be more careful next time.

Next time?

He should not even be thinking about that. There could not be a next time, and he knew it. That girl was too pure, too innocent. He could not risk her life by getting involved with her.

They drew the marks on each other’s foreheads and returned to the mill, where Maria awaited them.

Emmett had taken Peter’s place as the oldest of the journeymen and when New Year’s Eve arrived, the same fate caught up with him. Jasper had flipped open Peter’s knife many times in the weeks leading up to the new year, but it was always the silver, metallic colour it had been.

When they found Emmett and buried him in the already dug out grave next to Peter, Jasper didn’t linger at the site, not this time. Emmett had seen it coming, Jasper knew, had even made a few cryptic comments about what fate awaited him. And yet, the man had trained to be stronger, better prepared for the fight. In the end, it was of no use. A broken neck, Alec told them, he had probably fallen down the stairs. Jasper did not believe that any more than he had last time.

Once more, he was left alone with no one to trust, no one who had his back.

**_______________**

**Year Three**

A few days later, the new boy showed up. His name was Ben, and he was even smaller and weaker than Mike had been last year. This time it was Jasper who introduced the boy to the others, and he wondered what it meant. In his first year, it had been Peter, then last year, Emmett. Did this mean that his time had come now, too?

In the days following Emmett’s death, Jasper had begun to make plans. He had to leave, had to get out of this place. It wasn’t going to be easy. Maria would not let him leave that easily. He had made a pact, had become a part of the secret brotherhood, and was bound to her in ways incomprehensible to people outside his world. Once, he had tried to run away, back during his first year, after Peter had died. But no matter how far he’d walked, he’d always ended up at the mill, where Maria had stood and smiled at him. No, running away was not an option.

But there had to be some way to leave.

When Maria made Ben clear out the flour dust in the barn, it was Jasper casting the spell to fulfil her impossible task. Ben asked him – much like Jasper had all this time ago – how he’d done it, and, exactly like Peter back then, he did not answer the boy’s question. History was repeating himself and Jasper was aware of it. He knew, come the end of the year, the blade of Peter’s knife would be black when he flicked it open.

So he did what Emmett had done. He trained and studied. He made sure to become better in the Dark Arts than the others, become stronger than them physically until his body felt like it is made of steel instead of tissue and bones. Maria was pleased with him – she always had been, come to think of it – and she started looking at him differently; somehow more calculated. Perhaps she wanted to know if he was going to challenge her. It made him question if perhaps that was the way it had to be, if he wanted to escape this place. Perhaps he had to fight her, to test who was stronger, to earn his freedom through her defeat or death. As soon as the thought had crossed his mind, his instincts told him it was the truth.

In February, he had another dream.

_He ran away from the mill._

_His feet were barely touching the ground as the blurred line of the trees were flying past the edge of his vision. When he stepped out of the forest, he cast the spell that would turn him into a raven, relieved to be free, relieved to finally be able to fly._

_For a while, he rose higher and higher, the houses of the village getting smaller and smaller underneath him. It was a beautiful, refreshing feeling, floating through the air like this, no worry, no care in the world._

_Like all things, it didn’t last._

_Jasper barely had time to divert his course when the eagle came flying towards him, the sharp beak aimed directly at his heart. The bird’s black eyes reminded him of someone, although he couldn’t recall who it was he was thinking of. All he knew was that his life was at stake, that the eagle had come for him, to put an end to this existence he called life._

_The eagle chased him for a long time, high up through the clouds and down low, close to the ground through the treetops of the forest. Until, finally, Jasper was too exhausted to continue, his wings burning with the exertion, his lungs feeling like they would explode. He fell to the ground then, landing on a field just outside the village. When he raised his hand, he noticed that he was in his human form once more, the fall having broken the spell he’d cast._

_Looking up, he saw the eagle fast approaching in his direction. No doubt this was Maria’s – because he suddenly remembered that it was her – chance and opportunity to finish him off._

_But the eagle paused, stopping only a few metres off the ground away from him and stared down at him from dark eyes. Only when he felt her hand on his shoulder, helping him up, did he realise that the girl – the singer, the one he loved – was standing right by his side._

_“Are you all right?” she asked him, her voice even more beautiful than he remembered. For the past months, he had tried not to think of her, to keep her safe, and had succeeded at that only because his concern and worry for her life were so powerful. Even more powerful than the desire to conjure up her head in his mind every moment of every day._

_He nodded at her slowly, ready to pull her behind his back as he eyed Maria, waiting for her attack. The woman was standing in front of them in her human form now, the expression on her face dark and threatening._

_“Let’s go,” she barked at him._

_The girl beside him straightened her back._

_“Why?” she asked Maria, who stared at her incredulously._

_Jasper did pull her behind his back then, and glared at his master. She could torture him, capture him, and trap him in the mill forever, take his life even, he did not care. But for the love of everything that was holy - if there still was such a thing in the hell he was trapped now -, he would not allow Maria to hurt_ her _._

_“Why?” Maria said. “Because he’s mine. He belongs to me.”_

_“No,” the girl said simply, as if the last word was spoken. Jasper was too struck by the certainty in her voice to reply anything, or to even look at Maria to examine her reaction._

_The singer took his hand, hers tiny resting in his big one. He’d never felt so safe before. At that moment, he knew he’d follow her anywhere. For what seemed to be the first time in his life, he felt hope._

_“Come,” she said. “We’ll go somewhere else together. Some other, better place. You’ll never have to be that again.”_

_And when she pulled him with her, he didn’t hesitate, didn’t look back._

The next day, he woke up late. At breakfast, the others told him the news with whispering voices when he inquired about the absence of one of the others. The man called Sam – Emmett’s cousin – had tried to hang himself in the barn beside the mill. He had not succeeded. Just in time, Maria had found him, cut the rope with a spell, and told him she was the one who decided who lived and died at the mill. And no one else. Then, before stalking off as if he wasn’t even worth another minute of her time, she had given Sam a look full of disgust and had spat at him.

The words didn’t leave his mind for days - telling him what he’d already known with certainty - though Jasper had not been there himself to hear them. They answered the question that had been on his mind on two occasions; once, two years ago. And then again, the second time, on New Year’s Day of this year. Maria was the one guilty of his friend’s deaths. While this didn’t come as much of a surprise, it had shocked him nonetheless that she was admitting to it so nonchalantly.

Easter came just as suddenly as it had in the previous years, the months having flown by, in between the additional training he’d done. Walking next to Ben, who was his partner this year on the eve of Easter Sunday, Jasper went over the last details of the plan he’d made during the past months. He wouldn’t be as careless as he had been last year. This time, he would not leave his body. This time, he would actually see her.

They did not talk while they were sitting next to the fire at Caius’s resting spot. Throughout the night, Jasper stayed there, waiting for the familiar tones, the familiar voice of the one he loved most. And at midnight, his patience was rewarded: The choir started to sing, just as it had last year and the year before. He was fidgeting around with Peter’s knife in his hand, waiting for _her_ voice to break out of the choir of the others. When it did, he felt like crying again, this time with relief. There was some part of him that had feared for her life after his dream, worried that Maria had found out somehow, that she’d come for his singer. But she was there, in the village, sounding as beautiful and as pure as ever, and Jasper let out a sigh filled with gratitude.

“Her voice is beautiful,” Ben said, his eyes meeting Jasper’s.

“It really is.” It was as much as Jasper could say, and Ben didn’t pry any further. Perhaps the boy hadn’t even noticed how anxious Jasper had been until he’d heard her voice. Perhaps he was oblivious to the fact that all the tension seemed to leave the blond man’s body when he realised that she was all right. Perhaps he’d really only been caught up in the moment, listening to a pretty girl’s voice in the darkness of a cold night. However, Jasper was wary, vowing to himself to be more careful with his emotions the next time, although he did not truly believe that Ben was spying on him for Maria. The boy didn’t even know the rules yet, didn’t know what would happen on New Year’s Eve.

When the girl’s song stopped, at dawn, Jasper moved away from the fire, sure that Ben was too tired to notice his absence. He cast the spell – a new one he had learned – and spoke to her directly for the first time, “My love. You don’t know me, but I know you. I have known you for a while. When you go to fetch the Easter Water this morning, stay behind the others and walk slower, just as you did two years ago. I would like to meet you. If you want that, too, please listen to my words.” He repeated his words three time and thought about her face while he said them.

Somehow, he was sure she had received his message.

He returned to the fireplace and drew the mark on Ben’s forehead and made the boy draw it on his. They spoke the words and headed home.

While they were walking through the forest, Jasper suddenly brought his palm up to his forehead. “Oh no. I’ve forgotten something at the fireplace. You go ahead.”

Ben nodded and walked on. Jasper ran over to the pathway so fast that his lungs were burning. He hid from the girls, his singer’s friends, until they had passed and stepped out of his hiding place. And then, after a short moment, she came into view. She was dressed all in white, like the others, and draped in a woollen scarf. She gave him a curious look and came to a stop in front of him, looking up at him from these deep blue eyes.

“My name is Jasper,” he began. “I’m an apprentice at the mill next to the Dark Lake. Don’t be afraid.”

The girl smiled and did not look frightened in the least. “I know you. I’ve dreamt about you many times. About you and… another person who wishes you harm. But you and I, we did not care. Ever since then, I was hoping we’d meet. And now, here you are.”

“I’m here,” he said. “But I cannot stay. I must return to the mill.”

She nodded. “I know.” She smiled at him once more. “Jasper. I like that name. It suits you. My name is-”

He cut her off quickly. “Please, do not tell me. You have to trust me, it’s better if I don’t know.”

Again, she nodded, just taking in the information without questioning it.

And then she dipped the corner of her scarf into her tankard with the Easter Water and washed the dark, ashen mark off his forehead. She did this with so much certainty and tenderness, like they had known each other for years, that Jasper could only stare at her. He felt as though she’d erased a flaw, something that wasn’t supposed to be there but was. And he was hit by a wave of gratitude for his girl, who did not judge him, was not afraid of him despite of knowing who he was.

When Jasper returned to the mill, Maria was – for the first time in a long while – not pleased with him.

“Where is your mark?” she barked at him.

Thankfully, it had rained, so he told her the rain must have washed it off. She went to the fireplace and retrieved a piece of coal, drawing the mark on his forehead herself.

After the work for the day was done – in the beginning done only with the hardest of efforts, and then, easy once more, when the sweat had smudged the marks on the journeymen’s foreheads – Maria pulled him aside.

“I need to speak with you.”

“What is it, Master?” he asked, bracing himself for an unpleasant conversation.

Her eyes drilled into his. “You have done well this past year. Your skills in the Dark Arts are very impressive and I’m willing to consider giving you a position as my right-hand man. However, recently, I have had a few doubts about this proposal. I can’t shake the feeling that there’s something you’re hiding from me. And that would not be wise, because as you know, I have the means to find out what it is even without your consent. So it would be easier if you just came out with it, and then we can see what can be done about it.”

Jasper did not hesitate for a single second. “I have nothing to tell you.”

“Is that so?”

“Yes.” His voice was firm.

Maria gave him another long look, disappointment evident in her features. “Fine. Go back to the others then.”

When Jasper made his way back to the attic, he was suddenly pulled into the kitchen by Edward. The bronze-haired man handed him a necklace with what seemed to by a crystal attached to the end.

“Take this, and wear it at all times. Under no circumstances can you remove it. Especially at night. Otherwise your dreams will give you away and kill you both.”

After this incident, Jasper realised he had been a fool. When Peter had tried to tell him in this dream who he could trust, he had not been talking about Emmett after all. As it turned out, Edward was not who Jasper had previously thought he was. His whole behaviour was an act, made up to hide his true intelligence. It was his survival strategy and an extremely clever one, too. Maria did not take Edward seriously at all, and he was using it to his advantage. After that, the two young men started to meet up regularly after work on the fields behind the mill, far out of earshot. Additionally, Edward cast a spell every time they talked, to make sure that nobody could eavesdrop. And they started to make plans.

The one question, the main question Jasper had, was how he could leave this place behind, and how he could make sure that his singer would be safe. And Edward, after having spent so many years in the shadows and having listened to all these conversations - having seen _everything_ \- knew the answer to it.

“If you have a girl you love and who loves you, she can come to the mill on the last day of the year and ask the master to release you. The master will ask her if she’s sure, because if she is not, you will both die. Then, the master will test the girl, test the love she has for you.”

“How?” Jasper asked. “Is it difficult, this test?”

“Yes.” Edward’s voice was quiet. “I’ve seen it once before, when a boy you did not get to meet, asked his girl to come here. In Maria’s dark book it says that the girl has to point out her lover among the other journeymen.”

“That doesn’t sound very difficult.”

“Those are the words as they are written, but the Master knows many ways to twist them. Back then, she made us turn into ravens and put our beaks under our left wing. You know we cannot disobey her, it’s impossible.”

Jasper nodded.

“She did not find him,” Edward said, his voice grim. “She pointed at someone else. And they both died.”

“Did nobody ever try after that?” Jasper asked.

Edward shook his head. “Peter was going to, with his Charlotte. But the master found out her name before that and… you know the rest.”

“What about you? Why did you never try?”

Edward sighed, giving him a look as if _he_ was the real fool among them. “Because I don’t have a girl.”

Jasper blushed, because the other was right, of course. It had been a silly question.

“Also,” Edward continued, “If your girl manages to point you out correctly, the Master will die and with her everything we’ve learned from her about the Dark Arts. We will be as ordinary as other journeymen in different places.”

Jasper thought about this for a moment and discovered that he did not care. As long as the singer, his love, would be safe and they could be together, he would not mind losing his powers. He was never supposed to have them in the first place.

“So, if I were to try this… I would only have to give my girl a sign, right? Show her that it’s me.”

Edward shook his head again. “That won’t work. It did not work back then, and I doubt it will this time. The Master will prevent it, as she has the last time.”

“Then what can I do? I can’t risk her life on the off chance that she will recognize me in my raven form.”

“Well, I have thought about this question many times,” Edward said. “And I have come to the conclusion that you will have to learn how to disobey the Master. It won’t be easy and it will take a lot of training, but it’s possible. So then, when the Master asks us to put our heads under our left wing, you will put yours under your right.”

“That still doesn’t sound so difficult.”

“You say that now, but you’ll see.”

And then they started practising. Jasper realised quickly that he’d been a fool for ever believing this would be easy. Edward was a powerful magician and he managed to force the blond man to do his bidding every time he commanded him. From now on, they would practice every night, and little progress was being made. It was one of the hardest spells there was, disobeying an order by someone better acquainted with the Dark Arts and more experienced. Day after day, week after week, Jasper failed.

And he could not risk the girl’s life, not when he could not do it.

On a warm, breezy summer day, Maria sent Jasper out on mission to sell one of the horses. Grasping this opportunity, he contacted his girl again, asking her to meet him outside the village. By now, he knew how he could hide them from Maria’s eyes and ears - which seemed to be everywhere - with a spell.

And the singer came, already starting to smile at him from afar while she was walking toward him. She was wearing a yellow summer dress and had flowers in her dark hair.

“Jasper,” her clear voice greeted him. “You’ve kept me waiting a long time.”

He smiled. “My apologies, Ma’am.”

“You wanted to see me.” She sat down in the grass next to him.

“Yes. I don’t mean to scare you, but there is a matter I need to discuss with you. If you want, you could save my life.”

“Your life?” She stared at him, a genuinely frightened expression in her eyes now. “Is it in danger, your life?”

“It is, yes.”

She didn’t hesitate. “What can I do?”

Jasper explained it and she listened, her eyes never leaving his face. He’d expected her to be terrified, scared of him or the prospect of this possible death for both of them, but she did not seem to be.

“I will do it,” she said when he had finished.

“My love,” Jasper said, taking her hand. “You must be aware of the consequences; you must be sure. If we fail, your life is forfeit.”

The girl smiled again. “Your life is worth it, Jasper. I will be there.”

When December came, so did the arguments and fights among the journeymen. When Ben asked Jasper about it, he only shrugged.

“They’re scared.”

“Scared of what?” the boy demanded to know.

Knowing he had come full circle, Jasper exhaled deeply. “You will find out soon enough.”

“And what about you, Jasper? Are you not scared?”

He had flicked open the knife that day and the blade had been pitch-black, just as he’d known it would be.

“More than you know.”

On New Year’s Eve, his girl showed up at the mill. Jasper had achieved the impossible for the first time, during a training session the week before. Just in time. He had managed to disobey Edward’s orders. Ever since then, he’d managed to do it every single time, so he felt prepared for the test that was to come.

The singer walked into the mill, into Maria’s office just as he’d asked her to do.

The journeymen gathered at the door, staring at her, all of them surprised at her presence. All of them, except for Jasper and Edward.

Fearless, the girl straightened her back, staring at Maria. “I’m here to ask you to release the man I love.”

Maria laughed, placing her booted legs on the table, and leaned back in her chair as she had all those years ago. “Your man? Who would that be?”

“Jasper.”

“Jasper,” Maria said, her voice cold now. “Well, have you thought this through? He’s told you what is going to happen if you fail the test?”

“Yes,” the girl said firmly. “I know it.”

“And are you sure you _know_ him?” Maria was trying to intimidate the girl, her laughter cruel. “Can you pick him out among the other journeymen?”

“I know him.”

“All right. Let’s put your love to the test.”

Maria summoned them all to her office, the same way she had done so many times before. She made them line up in a row and brought the girl in. Jasper waited for the order, waited for Maria’s command asking him to turn into a raven, but it never came. Instead, Maria wrapped a piece of dark cloth around the girl’s eyes and guided her to stand in front of the line of men.

Jasper’s heart dropped into his stomach.

He had not expected this. All his training, all these countless hours when he and Edward had practised disobeying the master’s orders had been in vain. He could not show her where he was, which one he was. Could not simply put his head under the wrong wing to indicate his identity.

They were doomed.

He was doomed, but he did not care about that.

 _She_ was doomed.

It felt as though his heart was going to burst into pieces. His own life was forfeit but it wasn’t himself he was grieving about. Peter’s words came back to his mind, about the journeymen in this mill not bringing much luck to girls.

Well, he had just straight up _murdered_ his own girl.

Maria’s voice seemed to come from far away.

“Well?” she asked. “Which one is it?”

The girl walked up and down the line, once, twice. Jasper’s throat felt constricted and his heart was racing. She did not know where he was. This poor girl, this poor innocent creature; he had led her to her death.

And then, while walking down the line for the third time, the girl suddenly stopped, and extended her hand.

“There he is.”

She was pointing straight at him.

Maria’s voice was restrained. “Are you sure?”

“Yes.”

And so it was done. Maria stumbled back against the wall, her power broken. The girl removed the blindfold from her eyes and smiled brightly at Jasper, crossing the distance between them to throw herself into his arms. He had never been so relieved, had never felt so light-hearted before.

“You are free,” she whispered, and he laughed, carefree because he could not believe it. He _was_ free. The dark shadow looming over him was gone. That was when he kissed her for the first time, not giving a damn about the other journeymen around them. When he broke away, the smiles on their faces were so bright they could have lit up the dark night sky outside.

“You can tell me your name now.” Jasper had longed to ask that question for years.

“It’s Alice.”

When she took his hand and led him out of the mill – which would cease to exist after this day, as would the Master – he asked, “How? How did you do it?”

Alice smiled. “I felt that you were scared. Scared for _me_ , while the others were scared for themselves. That’s how I knew.”

**Author's Note:**

> So, this is one of my favourite stories ever. I hope you guys like this take, it's very different from anything I've written before. Therefore, comments and opinions would be much appreciated.


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